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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501368">A Heart for a Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reshzin/pseuds/Reshzin'>Reshzin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Romance, Rumination, petting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:53:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reshzin/pseuds/Reshzin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowman walks into Crowbar's office and finds the man asleep. As she watches him doze, she thinks about what he means to her. She doesn't know whether to smile or frown at the answer she comes to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crowbar/Snowman (Homestuck)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Heart for a Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this in a flurry of motivation over the course of like an hour and a half. I wanted to use this piece to explore Snowman's way of thinking and how it meshes with Crowbar's presence. This is not the first time they've had such intimacy before in this timeline, but it is the first time Crowbar states his feelings for her so blatantly.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You step into the room and see him dozing off on the couch. Infamous tri cornered hat starting to slip off his head. You debate walking over to adjust it or take it off to make things more comfortable for him, but you know, from experience, that he’s a light sleeper. You lean against the doorframe and stare at him as you think. </p><p>Crowbar isn’t usually the type of man you would go for, what with his meek approach to romance and inability to understand certain aspects of the world, but every time you hear his commanding words in battle, you feel your spirit lift and your heart sink. The tone always reminds you of your long dead husband. A man who is better than Crowbar in most every aspect besides vitality. Another minute passes. The clocks littering the room click away as you tilt your head in even deeper thought. </p><p>How could you have accepted him? He’s supposed to be nothing to you, so why are you so interested in him. A man that wasn’t even coded to be in your presence. You understand that you can break the bonds of your hardware, but, being the previous Queen, you sometimes fail to see the true fault of it all. To you, these chains are not meant to restrain, but to contain. You can freely move with them, but your thoughts are better monitored. You feel more in control, smoother, colder in the heat of battle. Granted, you’re not the one that is supposed to be battling. You never were, and now, what with you being the universe, you never should, but still. It calls to you. </p><p>You lightly kick off of the doorframe to walk towards your little leprechaun. Even in his sleep he’s not fully relaxed, but that’s okay, it adds to his charm. You teleport you hat to your bedroom before snatching his to settle on the coffee table beside you both. He begins to wake up, but before he can speak, you press a finger to his lips to silence him. Bleary eyes stare up at you in confusion, but he makes no effort to refuse you. Like a true pawn, he knows how and when to do as he’s told. You smile warmly at him and feel as his confused frown turns into a nervous smile between your finger. </p><p>This is Crowbar, a leprechaun. His body is covered in fuzz and sometimes you have a hard time telling whether or not he breathes, but he is real, and he’s in front of you now. You can tell by the soft plush of his skin pressing up against the only pieces of you you’ve ever let him touch. He is naïve compared to you, foolish, stupid, brash, but he grounds you. He brings you back into a time where you had control, while also keeping you in the present, where you have power. His faults are made up in his benefits. You’ve always liked that about him.</p><p>You turn your hand to remove your first finger from him so that you can press your thumb into the sensitive skin of his lips. You can see him tense. It’s wonderful. Smile staying, you glide the hard chitin of your digits across his skin. It makes him shudder beautifully, and though you know he desperately wishes to question you, he doesn’t, like the good pet he is. </p><p>“Crowbar.” You prompt him, eyes locked onto his face for the sole purpose of licking up any reaction he gives you. Crowbar, like the reliable man he is, straightens up his spine and stares at you back, gaze filled to the brim with intention and attention. You can see his jaw relax slightly, as if he’s about to open his mouth to speak, but right as sound is about to leave him, he tenses again, silent. You instinctively bite your lip, more pleased than some would think you have any right being.</p><p>“I’ve known you for a long time, longer than some others in this crew, but I’d like to ask you something. Are you willing to answer any question I ask?” Crowbar, even though any other person might be wary or suspicious, nods his head without a trace of hesitation. To reward him, you tilt your hand further to let your digits grasp his chin. You tilt his head a fraction of an inch up, just to show him you can. As you do so, you take in his gaze. His eyes are so obviously filled with want it makes you bite your lip harder. He wants to please you so bad, it’s so cute. You let your head tilt again as you speak, tone genuine. </p><p>“What are you to me?” Crowbar, for his credit, doesn’t flinch, but you can tell you’ve startled him. One of his brow ridges turns down in pure thought and confusion. As you let him think, you look at his face again and dig your fingers just a bit more into his skin. So soft, so plush. How in the universe did Doc think men such as these could become cold blooded mobsters? They are not biologically built soldiers. They do not have experience about the battlefield coded into the essence of the very blood they are meant to spill without a thought. They are mere men, toys even. A bundle of atoms that wrangled just enough willpower to allow getting out of bed in the morning. They are the least favorable pawns you could have gotten, and yet. </p><p>“Anything,” He says to you, snapping you gracefully out of your unnoticed trace. You blink in mild, but apparent, surprise. “I can be anything to you, given enough time and skill. I may not be the strongest man in the multiverse, but I promise you that I can be, by far, the most enthusiastic.” You blink once more, hand tightening again as a flurry of emotions rush through your mind. </p><p>Anything? Anything…? This man cannot become anything, nor can he become any semblance of everything to you. He is nothing in comparison to you. A mere speck in the great ocean of reality. You doubt he can even comprehend the power of the words he so easily gives you, but, then again. </p><p>“Maybe there’s a real reason you were made the tertiary boss of this silly outfit.” He frowns at you at that, but you distract him by sliding a hand up his face to caress down his scalp. The fuzz is a bit longer here, enough to rake your nails through, but not enough to pull. He flusters for a good moment before unwillingly letting out the softest of purrs. It makes your sentence feel like a part of an oxymoron, but you don’t mind. It breaks his dignity, just the slightest bit, and that’s what you’re after. Not the breaking of the man before you, but the control that comes with it. </p><p>Crowbar, unknowing of what to do next, rips his stare from your eyes to settle it upon the floor. It’s a passive look, one that suits him. Despite his looks in the current moment, you are aware that he is a prideful man. He has wants and standards that he sacrifices a great deal to meet, but when he is with you, all of that false exterior melts away enough to allow you to see his core, his most vulnerable part, the ever-fragile heart. This, you think, seals the deal. He is yours, through and through, nobody else’s. Nobody has enough control to bring him to this point like you, and that is good. You’d hate for your pet to fall into the uncareful grasp of another. </p><p>You continue your gentle ministrations for another few moments before allowing your hand to glide down his head just enough to reach the vulnerable part on the back of his neck that makes him feel weak. Careful to make sure his gaze is still down, you smile as he loses some control over his muscles. Toned biology releases him just enough to let him lean forward and rest his forehead upon your stomach. It probably isn’t very comfortable, but the increased volume of his purrs make you suddenly not care about this fact. He is yours, and you will take care of him, no matter what. </p><p>“Hey.” He speaks, voice small, shaky, and quiet. You delicately scritch at his fuzz, noting that it’s getting warmer, as you respond.</p><p>“Yes?” Your tone is filled with far more authority and definition than his, but if any other being were to wander into the room and hear you, they would note that there is a subtle tenderness in it. He unconsciously nuzzles into you as he speaks.</p><p>“You know, I quite like you, right?” Silence fills the room at that. Ticking clocks doing nothing to change the brittleness of it all. You’re both aware of it, but the awareness goes unsaid.</p><p>“I,” A rare hesitation grips you. “Think you’re quite lovely yourself.” You nod to yourself, the words odd on your tongue. You wonder briefly if this was the correct thing to say before banishing the thought as soon as it comes. You are a being of power, the laws of right or wrong don’t apply to you. The only language you’re fluent in is confidence, and you refuse to think of yourself as anything but. He smiles, unseen, while you note the exact moment his heart melts in your hands. </p><p>“Thank you.” He says, tone happier than you think it should be. Is he happy about this? Does being in such a position before you please him? Does he want something? You frown as these thoughts swirl inside your spinning mind. A gentle sigh leaves you. You don’t respond to Crowbar here, but he seems to take your silence as an answer nevertheless. Before he can dwell on it too much though, you make his spine shiver in delight as you find another weak spot on his neck. You note the strangeness of the situation then, filing away the realization that your chest and face now feel warm. The corner of your mouth twitches up, but you force it down before any peeking ghost can see. You know exactly what’s happening here, but you try not to think too hard about the implications of it. You’re stronger than that. Too strong, in fact, to let the man you carry the heart of, carry yours back.</p>
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